Fools Rush In (4 page)
Authors: Ginna Gray
She snatched it back as though she had been burned and clasped her hands together in her lap.
Grinning wickedly, Max pried her fingers apart and returned her hand to his thigh, covering it with his own.
When Max turned into a curving driveway and brought the car to a halt, Erin was torn between profound relief that the ride had ended at last and dread over what was yet to come.
Though the drive had seemed interminable, it had actually taken only a few minutes. Max's home was just a few miles up the mountain from Global Imports. Like the warehouse, it sat alone on a level plateau with a commanding view of Santa Fe and the surrounding mountains. It was a sprawling, multileveled adobe structure, with many of the rear rooms climbing up the mountain face in step fashion. A few trees shaded the front corners of the house, and another sprouted in the center from what Erin assumed to be a courtyard or open atrium. Most of the landscaping, however, was a carefully tended rock garden containing hardy native plants.
Assuming that Elise had been there before, Erin tried not to appear too curious. Max slipped his arm around her waist, and she accepted his touch with a polite smile as he led her up three shallow stairs toward the massive oak door.
Inside, the tiled entrance hall was cool and dim. Erin would have liked to look around, but the moment the door closed behind them Max hauled her into his arms.
The move so startled Erin that she resisted instinctively. She opened her mouth to protest, forgetting for an instant that Elise would probably melt in his arms, and felt his lips cover hers.
She froze, eyes opened wide, hands splayed against Max's chest. Her heart thumped, and her mind went utterly blank. She couldn't have moved if the house had caught fire.
Then her shock began to fade, and she realized that never in her life had she been kissed quite so masterfully... or so thoroughly.
Max's lips were firm and warm, tender and demanding. They rocked against hers with a slow, savoring hunger that was wildly exciting. His tongue delved and stroked, laying claim with bold sureness; his hands roamed up and down her back, cupped the rounded fullness of her bottom and kneaded with embarrassing familiarity.
"Mmm, you taste delicious," Max murmured against her cheek. He returned to her mouth, nipping, his tongue gliding over her parted lips. "So sweet." His bold hands pulled her closer, rotating her hips against his. "And you feel so damned good," he whispered in her ear.
So do you, she thought in a flash of panic. That was the problem. Max's kisses, the feel of his hard body against hers, made her dizzy with need. And his scent was so wonderfully male, so intoxicating. It surrounded her, filled her senses and created a delicious woozy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Erin's mind and body were sending out conflicting signals. The temptation to relax and respond was almost irresistible.
So why don't you?
a traitorous inner voice whispered.
You're supposed to be Elise, remember? It's what she would do.
But the thought of her sister and of Elise's feelings for Max brought both honesty and guilt to the surface. Idiot, she chided herself. It's Elise he thinks he's kissing.
Wedging her arms between them, Erin broke off the kiss and leaned back within his embrace. She gave a shaky laugh and flashed him what she hoped was a coy look. "Max, we're still in the foyer."
"So?"
"Well, you did say we were going to have dinner, didn't you? I'm starving." It was true. She hadn't had a bite since that cardboard breakfast she'd only nibbled at on the plane that morning.
With a chuckle and another quick kiss, Max released her. "All right. First things first, I suppose. You know where everything is. While I change, why don't you start dinner?" He gave her bottom a swat and started up a short flight of stairs, stopping on the landing to call back, "Just make a salad and that special dressing of yours, and throw a couple of potatoes into the microwave. I'll grill the steaks."
Erin stared after him. Salad dressing? Potatoes?
Oh, Lord.
She was really in trouble now. Elise was the domestic one. Her own culinary talents were limited to opening cans and adding boiling water to packets of instant mix.
She looked around, her brain working furiously. Well, she had no choice; she was just going to have to fake it. She was stuck on a mountaintop with a man who had amorous intentions. It was either keep him in the kitchen and feed him or run the risk of finding herself in the bedroom, appeasing another appetite.
But first she needed to get the lay of the land.
Erin swept through the rooms on the first level at nearly a run and was surprised to find only a large living room, a powder room, a library and what appeared to be a home office.
Where the devil was the kitchen?
She returned to the entry hall and listened at the bottom of the stairs for Max. Emboldened by the distant sound of a shower running and an off-key baritone raised in song, she raced up to the landing. From it the stairs branched off and upward in several directions, and hallways stretched out on each side.
Erin nibbled briefly at the end of her index finger, then took off down the right hall. Four doors opened onto it. The first two were large closets, the others a bathroom and an enormous game room.
Gnashing her teeth, Erin raced back to the landing. She took the first set of stairs two at a time, then zipped right back down again when she discovered that they led to the master suite.
Working her way across the landing, she ran up and down, exploring at breakneck speed, finding several more bedrooms, each with its own bath, several private terraces tucked between the wings, and a solarium. She also discovered that by building his house in steps up the side of the mountain, Max had ingeniously provided each room with a breathtaking view.
By the time she located the kitchen, which, along with the dining and breakfast rooms, occupied the three-level wing to the left of the landing, she was thoroughly confused. There were countless nooks and steps and interconnecting passageways.
She'd never find her way around, Erin fretted as she washed her hands at the kitchen sink. The place was a regular rabbit warren.
She poked through the refrigerator until she found a bottle of salad dressing. She dumped the contents into a bowl and hid the bottle in the garbage pail under the sink, burying it under a wad of paper towels, then pulled a half dozen cans of likely looking herbs and spices from the cabinet and placed them beside the bowl.
When Max walked into the kitchen, a large salad of lettuce, spinach and tomato wedges sat in the center of the breakfast table, and Erin was standing at the counter, industriously whipping the dressing with a wire whisk.
"What's this?" he asked, peering over her shoulder.
His hands settled on either side of her waist. He buried his face in her hair, and she felt his warm, moist breath filter through the silky curls and feather over her scalp. Then his lips touched her neck. Erin's hands stilled. She gritted her teeth, trying to quell the delicious quiver that rippled through her.
"It's... salad dressing."
"It doesn't look like your usual," he whispered into her ear.
"I decided to try a new recipe."
Reaching around her, Max picked up a spice can. "You use cinnamon in salad dressing?"
"Uh... well... just a little."
He dipped a finger into the bowl and brought it to his mouth. "It tastes okay, I guess, kind of like that stuff I buy at the store. But I like your other recipe better."
Erin held her breath, but Max let the subject drop and resumed his affectionate nuzzling. He blew in her ear and kissed the tender flesh behind it while his hands roamed her hips and abdomen.
Erin hunched her shoulder against his marauding mouth and scolded with a shaky laugh, "Max, will you stop! You're supposed to be cooking steaks, remember?"
"Okay, spoilsport. You win." Then his voice changed from long-suffering to suggestive as he added, "For now."
Straightening, he grasped the lapels of her jacket. "Here, why don't you take this thing off."
He eased the garment from her shoulders, and Erin sighed when he moved away to hang it on a hook beside the door. The brief period of relief was shattered an instant later when, while crossing the kitchen, he paused long enough to kiss her neck and trail the tip of his tongue down her spine all the way to the edge of the scooped neckline of her tank top.
"Max!" Erin gasped, but he had already walked away, whistling and grinning as he opened the refrigerator and withdrew the package of steaks. She closed her eyes and shivered, feeling the cool air strike the thin line of damp flesh down her back.
❧
It was amazing, Erin thought an hour or so later, watching Max as she pretended to relax with an after-dinner drink. He barely seemed like the same man who had had her jumping through hoops that afternoon at the office.
Back at Global Imports it had quickly become obvious that Max was a dynamic, forceful man with an agile mind and an enormous capacity for hard work, traits that made him a demanding, exacting boss. He had run her ragged within an hour, and Erin's admiration for her sister's ability and patience had taken a quantum leap.
Max piled on enough work for three people, then expected perfection and growled like a bear when he didn't get it. By the end of the day Erin had been tired and irritated and out of sorts. She had even begun to wonder what Elise saw in the man.
Well, now she knew. When he turned on the charm, Max Delany was lethal.
As they had worked together in the kitchen, and later during the romantic candlelit dinner on the terrace, Max had grown more and more amorous. Passion and promise had been inherent in every look, every word, every touch.
And he had touched her constantly, brushing against her whenever possible, stroking her hand and bare arms with his fingertips, trailing his knuckles down her cheek. He'd made love to her with his eyes and murmured endearments and shockingly intimate remarks that had unnerved her to the point that she'd barely been able to think.
Once, she bit into a roll, and melted butter had dribbled onto her fingers. Before she could wipe it off, Max had captured her hand. Holding her gaze, he'd licked the golden liquid from her skin, running his tongue over her palm and between each finger with slow, sensuous strokes that sent fire streaking from the point of contact to the core of her femininity.
Oh, yes, the man was definitely dangerous.
Hunched down in front of the fireplace, Max jabbed the blazing logs with a poker, sending a shower of sparks shooting up the chimney. The fire hissed and popped, and Erin jumped.
Cursing under her breath, she dabbed at the drops of wine that had sloshed onto her slacks.
Her nerves were eating her alive. From that eerie moment just before Elise's frantic call, the dreadful, uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach had been growing. Call it intuition, telepathy, ESP—whatever—that strange, mystical communication that had always existed between her and her twin was working full throttle. Every instinct Erin possessed was screaming "Find her! Find her!"
But how? Global Imports, and Max, had seemed her best leads—her only leads—but she was no closer to locating her sister now than when she had walked into the office.
And to add to her worries, she hadn't the faintest idea how she was going to handle Max.
The scene was certainly set for seduction, Erin thought with a wry grimace, glancing around the large living room. The lights were so low that she could barely make out the massive Spanish armoire by the entrance, and the wrought-iron etagere filled with Indian artifacts set against the far wall was just a hulking shadow. The wine was crisp and cool and the small fire romantic, casting a mellow glow over the polished tile floor and the scattering of Navaho rugs. Music drifted from hidden speakers in the dim corners of the room. Ravel's Bolero, Erin registered—soft, sensual, soul-stirring, the building strains so subtly, relentlessly arousing.
The niggling doubt that had been worrying Erin all evening grew stronger as she watched Max rise and return the poker to its stand. He stretched, flexing his shoulders and arching his back in a slow, sinuous movement that made his muscles ripple beneath the pale blue knit shirt. Erin's mouth went suddenly dry. Could Elise have resisted a man with that potent combination of charm, good looks and sex appeal? Tommy Holman had been a great guy, and nice looking in a clean-cut all-American way, but he couldn't hold a candle to Max. It was like comparing a tabby cat to a mountain lion.
Max turned and caught her staring. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his low-riding jeans, he sauntered toward her with loose-limbed grace. Even in the dimness there was no mistaking the warm, intent look on his face.
You're in trouble, Erin, she told herself shakily. This is the man your sister loves. Even if he weren't, you barely know him, for heaven's sake. You've got to call a halt, somehow, before things get out of hand.
Max sat down beside her and turned at an angle, draping his arm along the sofa back. With one finger he touched her upper arm, drawing a tiny circle on her bare skin. "I missed you," he murmured, and the finger trailed upward, skimming over the narrow tank top and leaving a line of fire across her shoulder and the side of her neck.
A delicate shudder rippled through Erin, and her breathing grew shallow. Maybe she should just tell him the truth, she reflected. Surely Max couldn't be involved in anything nefarious. He hadn't done or said anything in the least suspicious all evening, and it was obvious that the only thing on his mind was seduction.
She had herself halfway convinced when his next words brought her doubts flooding back.
"What did you do while I was gone?"
She looked at him sharply, her heart beginning to pound. "Do?"
"Hmm. Anything I should know about?" He traced the velvety rim of her ear, then twined a bright curl around his finger. "Anything you want to tell me?"
"Why..." She paused and licked her lips. "Why do you ask?"
Inclining his head, he brushed his open mouth back and forth over the curve of her shoulder, dewing it with his breath. "Well," he murmured against her skin, "I could say that as your boss, I need to keep abreast of what's going on.. .but actually..." With intense concentration, he worked his way up over her shoulder and neck. "... the real reason is..."
Erin held her breath and waited, unconsciously arching her neck to give him better access as he nibbled along her jaw. When he reached her chin he turned her head with one finger, bringing her mouth even with his, and looking into her eyes, his own glittering beneath half-closed lids. "... I was hoping you'd say you'd been thinking about me."
The tension whooshed out of Erin like air escaping a balloon.
Max brushed her lips with a butterfly kiss. And then another. And another. So great was her relief, she accepted the tiny salutes with an eagerness that would have appalled her had she been thinking clearly.
Max pulled back a few inches and looked at her again. "I was also hoping that you'd thought over what we discussed and were ready to give me an answer."
Erin blinked, her muscles growing taut again as his words soaked in.
Answer? Oh, Lord. An answer to what?
"I, uh..."
"Come on, honey. It can't be that difficult a decision," Max prodded. "Surely by now you know how you feel."
About what? Erin wanted to scream. Then her eyes widened as it occurred to her that Max could have proposed to Elise. The thought produced a queer little stab of pain that surprised and dismayed her. Adding to her confusion was the strange hint of a smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth.
"I... I'm just not sure."
She expected annoyance or disappointment, but, oddly, her answer seemed to amuse him. Max's gaze dropped to her mouth, his lids lowering until his eyes were mere slits. "Well, maybe I can help you make up your mind," he whispered as his head lowered once again.
Erin's heart banged against her ribs. She tried to force her mind to go blank, to will her senses to feel nothing, but it was impossible. The kiss was pure seduction.
With warm lips and nimble tongue, Max tempted and tantalized and sweetly cajoled until at last she shuddered and, with a little moan of surrender, slid her arms around his neck.
Instantly the kiss grew bolder, deeper. Sensations poured through Erin, sweet, hungry sensations that made her throb and burn and shiver all at the same time. She had to stop this, she thought dazedly, even as she parried the rhythmic thrusts of his tongue.
Max applied gentle, relentless pressure, and Erin could only cling to him as she felt herself being lowered, felt the nubby material of the sofa cushion tickle her skin, felt her back and shoulders sink into its softness. He lay over her, his body pressing her deep into the cushion, a delicious warm weight that made her yearn for something more.
She clasped his head with both hands, her spread fingers plowing through his hair, massaging restlessly, learning the shape of his skull. He tasted of coffee and brandy, and his delicious male scent made her head spin. His dark curls twined around her fingers and flowed against her skin like warm silk.
Max kissed her cheek, her chin, her eyes, her ears. His hand stroked her sides. "Oh, sweetheart, I love the way you writhe beneath me," he whispered. "Yes. Yes, that's it. Oh, God, you feel good. I've wanted you here from the moment we met."
Easing to one side, he braced himself up on an elbow and cupped her breast. He flexed his fingers around the soft mound and brushed his thumb across her nipple, and Erin moaned, her back arching.
"Sweet. So sweet." Max stared down at her, his eyes a dark, glittering blue. "And so responsive." His thumb brushed again, and her restive movement brought a look of satisfaction to his face. "You like that, don't you, Erin?"
He lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth. Moisture and heat seeped through her knit top and fragile lacy bra as he drew on her.
"Max. Oh, Max!" Erin gasped and closed her eyes, lost for a moment in the incredible sensations streaking through her.
Then her eyelids drifted open. "Wh-what did you call me?"
Max raised his head and met her confused gaze. He smiled. "Erin. Elise's globe-trotting sister I've heard so much about. You are Erin, aren't you?"